Diary
by gobbled234
Summary: The inner thoughts and ramblings of a melodramatic, teenage cynic. James and Lily, with a twist. She sighed, "A story of unrequited love, and the inevitable pain that follows." Fluffy, stuffed missiles were promptly flung her way.
1. Hello, My Name Is: Loser

_1 September 1975 _

_9:45 a.m._

Oh jeez.

So I guess I should come up with a greeting that's somewhat more refined than my pathetic attempt at cursing.

If one could call my half-arsed attempts at shortening the Muggles' saviour's name cursing, anyway.

I know what you're thinking.

She's _so _weird.

Well, it's true, dear, beloved, awesome, Diary.

I'm Lily, by the by.

Lily Evans, at your disposal for abundant sources of mockery and all-around loserishness.

And yes, I _know _that last bit wasn't actually a word, I am a prefect after all.

Speaking of, that reminds me of school. I'm going back to Hogwarts today.

As for the introduction, I suppose I should put it out there that my w_onderful _sister Petunia flushed my old diary down the toilet. So my mum got me a this one, which I'm totally stoked for – I vent through writing.

Don't ask why she'd fling my deepest thoughts, secret hopes, and wildest dreams in the WC.

She's just like that.

Her only though, Mum and Dad are absolutely ecstatic for me, and with good reason. As mentioned, I've been made one of Gryffindor's fifth year prefects!

Going back to Hogwarts will mean a lot of things. It'll be filled with – hopefully– steamy encounters with James Potter, loaded with trussing up for balls we're finally of age to attend, and tons and tons of fun with my wildly popular, extremely gorgeous girl friends.

Ha. I wish. Here are the facts, cut and dry.

The only thing exciting about my life? Is the fact that I can actually come up with something so ridiculously out of my scope and league through my overactive imagination. While my friends are quite pretty and well-liked, I myself am not.

James Potter? Doesn't know I exist.

And I most likely will _not _be attending any of the common room shindigs – let alone a _ball _– because chances are, no one will ask.

Remember how I briefly mentioned my old diary?

Yeah. I may seem like I sort of had an, I dunno, a_ffinity _for the damned thing, but now that I really think about it, I am so flippin glad that thing's gone.

In a way, I suppose Tuny's done a favour for me, because Merlin knows I need to purge my memories of Sirius Black's humiliating exposure of my inner thoughts and turmoil. I lied earlier about James Potter's ignorance of my existence.

Long story short: There's Second Year. There's me – let me paint a tempting picture of my devastatingly good looks – bright, hurt-your-eyes orange hair, thick, corrective-vision glasses, bushy eyebrows, and braces.

Yummy.

Add that exponential list to my slightly hunched, self-conscious posture that made me appear hump-backed, and my thin, knobby knees… Well. You can only imagine what a complete _hottie_ I was/am.

And there's The Marauders – James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, three of whom are highly revered and complete the crème de la crème of Hogwartian teenage society. Everyone thinks that the boys are very, very attractive. And very, very cool.

They were always up to something. Pranks were their forte, and they made sure that by Second Year, everyone knew it. Needless to say, this was the year the majority of our class's, a_hem_, losers were toyed with.

My diary, filled with doodlings that read "Mrs. James Potter" and "I heart James" was filched by Sirius Black one drafty Potions class.

He read a couple of excerpts from my wordy sanctuary. The descriptive passages that described James' hair were blasted throughout the Great Hall during lunch, and much to my chagrin, James did _not _in fact, return my sentiments.

From then on, they – save for Remus and Peter – would target me.

And it wasn't fun.

On a much lighter note, last year they pretty much ignored me and starting focusing their attentions on the Slytherins, though I must admit that because they put the limelight off of me, I didn't really pay attention to that.

And the saddest thing would have to be that even though James isn't the slightest bit interested, and even though he continually pranked me and made fun of my appearance…

I still fancy him.

Oh jeez.

Petunia's yelling again. Mum's dropping me off at King's Cross, so if I want to get a move on I'll have to cut this short right now.

I guess the next thing I want to mention is that I went to Paris this summer! Merlin, that was _quite _the experience, everything was absolutely marvelous. It helped loads that I'm fluent in the French language seeing as my mum's half, but I –

- Damn, I seriously have to get going.

Cheers,

Lily.


	2. Tedium

_1 September – 5__th__ year._

_Noon_

Vinyl.

The cheap, faux-leathery seats in our compartment make this awful squeaky noise I've never noticed before, but certainly do now.

If I squirm around too much, it sounds like I'm flatulating.

Heehee. I know I can be pretty immature sometimes. But not around my friends. Or anyone really – I think it's because they have this uptight, pinched image of me that I'm not willing to relinquish for some reason.

Hm.

That probably says something about me, but I'm too drowsy to psychoanalyze myself at this point.

Anyway, so I'm sitting in this compartment, all alone, waiting for my friends to come. Mum dropped me off a whole _thirty minutes _earlier than actual boarding time, so that leaves me with plenty of time getting acquainted with you, lovely Diary.

Before Petunia had started bellowing for me earlier, I'd really wanted to record this summer's happenings.

So without further ado… my vacation.

My grandmother is French, which means plenty of trips abroad. However, Mum never had us learn _la langue d'amour._ Yeah, she opted for her kids to learn English…

Since I'm extremely bright – no point in me denying it, it's the only remotely appealing quality I've got – I had developed an interest in wanting to learn French early on. So it was really exciting to go to France on this particular summer hols because I'm finally, totally fluent now!

And, _oh _the boys are soo gorgeous! Blind, too. I mean, not that I'd been complaining, but they were quite enthralled with me, the ones I had met. Probably my accent though, being English has its merits, aye?

It was, without a doubt, the coolest holiday ever.

My grandmum helped me find an appreciation for chic fashion, sophisticated makeup, and a crisp, cultured accent. Petunia has always spoken like my parents do, she never had confidence problems. But despite coming from a posh family, I always have had issues with confidence – and I only admit this here with the knowledge that no one will be reading this – and so I used to mumble a lot.

Now, I have that upper-class accent that I'd so desperately wished for, thanks to my grandmother's self-esteem boosts. I still don't wear makeup, what good would it do for me anyway? But I do like _owning _it, and I can't wait to practice my newfound talent on my friends! As for the clothing, I'm a total fanatic. My mum's been pleasantly surprised, since anything's a step up from my grungy, baggy wardrobe from before. Seriously, I sort of shudder to think what I had worn, it was totally shapeless.

That's not to say I wear revealing, cleavage-hinting, or particularly tight shirts and pants.

Whoa, no, I don't have the figure for that… chicken legs, remember?

So basically I've developed a taste for outrageously expensive clothing. Good thing my parents can cater to it, as that's really my only guilty pleasure. Spending obscene amounts of cash to acquire that effortless, Parisian look is well worth the money, as now my cashmere blended pants fit like a dream.

Corduroy, raw silk, taffeta, faded denim, leather, you name it, I probably have it.

Ooh, I'm so excited!

They'll be green with envy when they see my new clothes.

Sigh. Now if only I had my friends' beauty to match my pretty clothing.

Wistful,

Lily


	3. Crash Encounters

_1 September – 5__th__ year._

_2:00 p.m._

Oh my gawd, I think I'll go bonkers if I have to hear one more _utterance _of that loathsome cockroach. More on this later..

Soon after I'd stopped writing earlier, I'd dozed off a bit until the door had burst open, my friends toppling over one another in their haste to catch up on the latest ongoing of our lives.

They woke me, obviously.

So for the past, I don't know, half hour, Grace has been rehashing her encounters with Sirius Black to us as her somewhat reluctant audience.

I for one certainly do not want to know what color his _briefs _are. Actually, now that I think about the fact that the 'boxers-or-briefs?' question's been eliminated, that in itself is kind of disturbing.

On a brighter note, something c_ool _happened just an hour ago.

No, something extraordinarily brilliant.

When my friends had all stumbled into the compartment I'd saved, I'd groggily looked up to see them staring at me, slack-jawed and slightly bug-eyed with wonder.

I stared back at them uncertainly.

"Er, what?"

Suddenly, squeals of _Oh Lily!_ and my, you've changed – remarkably – whoa, _beautiful_ and it was all too much for me to comprehend three hyped voices so I did the sensible thing.

"Quiet!" I bellowed.

And when I'd finally gotten their attention, I politely inquired as to _what in Merlin's name _they were talking about.

Grace stared at me incredulously.

"Lily, you've completely transformed! Paris did you good."

..

Now, before I continue, I must explain something about my friends. Grace Wimbley is undeniably one of the prettiest girls at school; she has dark, pin-straight hair and large violet-coloured eyes.

Alice Dippet, though taken by Frank Longbottom, turns quite a few heads with her cherubic face and delicate frame.

And lastly, Kalypso Luna. Dark and exotic as her name, she attracts boys like nifflers to a sickle. Bee stung lips, thick lashes; she has blokes eating out of the palm of her hand.

Needless to say, I look even less attractive when I stand next to these girls, and the difference is astounding.

..

Kalypso grinned at me mischievously, "You didn't let on in your letters that you'd turned into a total _babe_."

Ugh. I love Kalypso to death, and I suppose one can't fault her much on being the only female child in her family, but _really. _The chauvinism!

"Honestly Lily," Alice chirped, "everything about you is just… _wow_."

I gaped at my friends unbelievingly.

Were they completely insane?

Taking the mickey?

Barmy?

I leapt up from beside Alice, and stared at them, flustered.

After mumbling – gee, my self-esteem sure had _boosted!_ – something about needing to head to the loo, then the prefects meeting, I hightailed my bony arse out of there.

But not before noticing the dubious looks on their faces.

They didn't believe that I believed them.

Well, duh! Anyone with eyes could see that I was the same old Lily Evans.

Locking myself in the restroom, I peered at my face searchingly.

Was there something everyone _but me _could see?

Hmm.

Well, my acne had thankfully all but disappeared. And maybe my hair had lost its heathen colour, darkening to a nice burgundy shade I'm quite fond of, and lengthening to midway down my back, allowing the frizz to dissipate into soft curls. I'd gotten contacts on the insistence of grandmère so you could actually s_ee _my eyes. I guess it also helps that I'd finally been deemed old enough by my mother to get my eyebrows waxed, though I'd asked the salon lady to leave the shape be – I already have a natural arch, and so I didn't want them plucked to the point of appearing quill tip-thin.

Oh! And my horrendous, terrible, braces! How could I forget the bane of my existence, the tacky Muggle dental ware that the Marauders had so enjoyed berating me about, making me cry? They had been removed before my trip to Paris, leaving behind a set of pearly-whites I'm sort of proud to call my own.

But did all this add up to… dishyness?

I tiptoed back out of the loo and rushed down the aisle to get to the prefects' compartment.

As I neared the door, I doubled over, panting from the exertion of my run. Yeah, so what if I'm not fit? We can't all be athletic.

And since I was panting and clutching the stitch in my side, I didn't notice the rather large person racing down the hall and barreling into me. I fell into a heap under the masculine form, my face pressed against his toned chest. The guy braced a hand on my waist and another near my head.

"Oh sorry," a sweet, low drawl. I could practically _hear _the suggestiveness oozing from his voice. Ohmigod, the bloke was being seductive! He hadn't even seen my face, that's probably why he'd mistaken me for some other girl, otherwise – he wouldn't be using the tone he'd been using.

His hand slid up from my waist, skimming the length of my body, and grasping my hand. As he helped me up, we both glanced at each other shyly.

"_Evans?!_"


	4. Vague Realizations

_Still 1 September – five o'clock_

I stared at him in shock.

"_Black?!"_

One, two, thirty seconds passed, during which he and I stared at one another, his mouth gaping.

Finally, he spoke.

And of course, it wasn't anything remotely flattering.

"Evans! You're like a girl!" he said, aghast. "With legs," he added, "and boobs."

Apparently, today was Epiphany Day. Everyone was noticing these inconceivably _wonderful _changes that seemed completely, irrevocably untrue to me.

It would have been maybe the slightest bit charming, this coming from Black, after all – the boy who'd insisted that I'd been a representation of the third sex for the last four years of my life.

But he had been cruel. No one, not even my friends, knew that I used to cry myself to sleep not only over James' utter lack of interest and outward rejections, but also from his roguish friend's taunts about my inadequate looks.

The thing was, Sirius Black had almost completely destroyed what little confidence a shy, apprehensive Muggleborn girl coming to a completely foreign, _magical _environment could've had. He had shattered any slight hopes of assurance that had once budded as I'd had my first – and only, so far – crush. To know that you're so unappealing and repulsive to the opposite sex can drive a girl to unimaginable heights of self-consciousness.

I glared at him coldly, coming to an on-the-spot resolution that there would be no more pining.

No more rejection.

Or emptiness.

Insecurities would be banished.

Nay! be said to _bad treatment. _

I was going to stick up for myself from now on, I wasn't going to take Black's or Potter's or even Pettigrew's crap. I would not stand for being bullied any longer, and sweet Merlin help me if I didn't defend myself.

Irritated, I huffed at him, "Good day, Black."

And I flounced past him into the prefect's compartment, leaving him gawking behind me.

I must admit that in those precious couple seconds after I'd resolved to myself that I hated any and all things pertaining to James Potter and the Marauders, I had somehow also developed a newfound – and I stress this because I've acquired it in a sparse amount of time – sense of confidence.

About my looks.

Because if I could get a boy like Black to look at me in _that way_…well ,then. I ran a hand through my tousled locks, and thought for a second.

_Maybe I should head back to the loo.._

Just for a quick peek.

…

I smiled weakly at my reflection, urging myself to truly like what I was seeing, what everyone had deemed "the new " Lily Evans. And much to my surprise, I liked what I saw. I had chosen an inky, tiered-ruffle dress worn over black tights, and I must say, the new me found me fabulous.

I left the bathroom, not finding it productive to just faff about and primp all day, that still will _not _be in my nature – vanity, I have come to find through countless examples, is most unattractive.

This time I leisurely sauntered toward my destination. No need in disregarding my recent happiness, so I let myself stew about in swirling thoughts of handsome boys, haute couture, and the last chapter of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

Upon reaching the door to the prefects' compartment, I tugged on my tights, checking for any ladders, and ran a shaky hand through my hair.

This was it.

I couldn't help but expel a shuddering breath, I was so nervous.

Stepping inside, the chattering occupants hushed.

"Nice of you to join us," Frank Longbottom, Head Boy, grinned at me.

I glanced around the room and blushed, embarrassed. Everyone was already there, and I was late.

"Hi Frank," I murmured shyly, my tomato face nearly combusting as his grin widened, and he motioned for me to take a seat. Alice is soo lucky, I swear. Not only is her beau gorgeous, he's also one of the nicest guys I've ever met.

Well, the answer to whom the other Gryffindor Fifth Year prefect was sitting beside me. Remus Lupin, Hogwarts' resident boy genius and sweetheart.

So maybe I didn't have to dislike _all _of the Marauders, since Remus was looking particularly scrumptious.

Wait a second. Since when did I start comparing a cute boy to a piece of meat?

Hmm, maybe I'd inherited Kalypso's disgusting head-in-gutter mindset. I was already becoming a bit arrogant like her, I thought, surprised.

He bashfully smiled at me.

_Ohmigod_, he'd caught me staring at him!

After Frank wrapped up his speech, he and the Head Girl left to patrol, while the prefects were to remain in the compartment until arrival upon Hogwarts.

"How was your summer?" Remus asked, breaking me from my muddled thoughts. And then, it started.

We smiled, turned toward each other, and began what seem to be the beginnings of a beautiful friendship.

I told him about the thrilling novel I'd read recently and the captivating sights of Paris, while he regaled me with tales of his extended family and his new terrier, Jaroo.

At the enunciation of the name, I started. "Do you know," I said slowly, "that _loup-garoux _means werewolf in French?" What a curious, curious name… Granted, it _was_ canine, but still, most people don't equate pups to vicious, man-killing monsters.

He looked surprised by my observation. Blanching, he muttered that no, he had not been aware of that, and then he hastily, artlessly, changed the subject.

How odd.

I wasn't able to dwell on Remus' mysterious behaviour, since at that very moment, a group of rowdy, ill-mannered, rambunctious _idiots_ swaggered into our compartment, disrupting the calmness that had permeated within the room.

Surprisingly, Black completely ignored me, and as per usual – though I _loathe _admitting it, I'm supposed to be getting over this – James didn't even look my way. And Pettigrew's always been slightly off; I dunno if he even fancies girls.

Ever since they arrived I've been tucked away in a corner, me scurrying away like the true _Gryffindor _I am as soon as I'd laid eyes on them.

Phew, it's been a really long day, and I can't wait to get home.

Hogwarts is the most magical place on earth. The sparkling outside and inside mixed with true Scottish charm, it truly embodies the stuff dreams are made of. Summer hols are a relief for even the nerdiest of children, as is the case with myself, but e_veryone _yearns to return to their haven, this marvelous sanctuary of remarkable ingenuity fleecing the grand, arched ceilings and walls, astonishing chancel, overwhelmingly marvelous abode which students reside in, and it lives in us, within out hearts.

It's been a long day, and I can't w_ait_ to get home.

Tearing up,

Lily


	5. Daring Lily

_2 September – Fifth Year_

The wonderful thing about having a friend who sporadically dates, heavily snogs, or carries out numerous clandestine rendezvous is that if you're not getting any action, they are more than willing to part with helpful information for if and when you _do_ get some.

Luckily, I have three such friends.

And it's tradition that when we return on the first of September, we are obliged to divulge juicy gossip and titillating secrets. (Well, the custom's been in motion ever since third year, when everyone started kissing and curling their lashes with their wands. _I_, on the other hand, had begun reading A_dvanced Arithmancy for the Modern __Numerology and Grammatica__ Addict. _)

I glanced at the girls huddled around me, Kalypso bouncing on my bed, the others scrunching onto my pillows, all reveling in the same warmth that I was drinking in. The dizzying feeling of fond nostalgia for the past spent with friends, and excitement for adventures of the now and soon.

Alice poked me sharply in the ribs. I rubbed my side, scowling at her.

"What was that for?!"

Stupid bint had the audacity to grin at me. Cheerfully, "You have some explaining to do, missy."

Grace nodded emphatically, "We're completely…boggled! I mean, _how _and _when_ exactly did you change?"

I sighed. Telling that it was a long story, I laid back against my downy pillows, and began my tale.

..

"And so now," I concluded, "I loathe James Potter and everything he stands for."

Three skeptical faces met my resolute gaze.

"What? I'm totally, completely, one-hundred percent serious! I am _way_ over that toerag. He's arrogant, pig-headed, immature, and he preys on girls, gets them to fall head over arse in love with him, and then hurts the poor chits' hearts!"

Breathe, Lily. Breathe.

If that little diatribe didn't convince them, I didn't know what would. After all, I really am over him – it may not seem like it since the decision to hate him occurred so soon, but basically… it's over. _I'm_ over, through, done, finished with pining over that moronic arse who could have politely told me that he wasn't interested, but instead decided that, for the sole purpose of his amusement, he would reject me harshly and then make my life at Hogwarts a living hell.

Yeah, thanks Potter.

Before the girls returned to their own beds, I whipped out a quill and parchment, and with a flourish, wrote:

_**~ The Slam List ~**_

James Potter

Sirius Black

I paused. Should I add a number three? But, who would I add? I'm not exactly malicious by nature, there're pumpkin pasties more vicious than I am.

So number three would be left blank for now. Pettigrew had never been much of a threat or nuisance to me, not like Potter and Black anyway.

After letting the girls see what I'd written, after they'd rolled their eyes at me and I'd insisted to them that I was serious, and that as good friends, they should be supportive, they grudgingly signed the paper.

I'd charmed the little bugger to give me a tiny shock every time I thought of, spoke to, or talked about either of the miscreants on the list. And as witnesses, my friends now had a slight introspection into my thoughts – because from now on if I ever think of, speak to, or talk about either of the bullying imbeciles on the slam list, they'll know. Two-way charms. Gotta love 'em.

As the girls clambered off of my bed, I got ready for a nice, long snooze. Everyone else had hurriedly changed into their pajamas, but I had been a bit shy to, and they hadn't been bothered to ask.

Just as well, too. Maybe in the morning they'd see, but tonight – it being the first night back, and the girls already surprised by my new look – I wanted to change into my silky lingerie without prying eyes.

The emerald-coloured nightie shimmered in the dim lighting of the loo, and as it slipped on I couldn't help but smooth my hands over the clinging ensemble. There was a matching, lacy dressing gown that stopped mid-thigh, like the nightie.

I preened a bit, twirling around and watching the hem lift and flare around my pale legs, enjoying this daring, confident Lily's attitude.

Hmm.

What if I snuck down to the kitchens for a quick bite to eat? At Hogwarts, the food is made so that one's complexion isn't marred despite the amount of oil-fat-content saturated in the meal.

And that brings us to the reason why I so desperately wanted to sneak out and grab a basket of fish and chips. It's a Muggle dish; so understandably, it hadn't been at the feast. But if I asked them, the House Elves would be more than welcoming, and quick to please.

Decision made, I tiptoed out of the room, went down the girls' staircase, and crept into the common room. My impulsiveness is one of the many glitches in my personality, and I always end up in some sort of trouble because of it. Why hadn't I thought of getting my robe as I'd left the dormitory? How could I have been that daft, and should I head back?

Nah. Daring Lily wouldn't do that, and besides, _no one _could possibly be up at this hour. I'm tiny too, so I could easily slip into a nook or cranny if a professor were to pass near me.

Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I stood at the foot of the staircase, thinking I must've made quite the picture. I giggled at the thought of a boy catching me in my get-up. True, it wasn't daring, but it did leave little to the imagination, without appearing slutty.

"Who's there?"

I gasped, clapping both hands up to my mouth, eyes wide.

Swiveling his head around from a plush armchair near the fire was none other than Potter himself.


	6. Poignant Settlement

Author's Note: From now and onwards, I will not set the date to the diary formatting – it's getting rather tired, and really – the title should say it all, aye? Please Read and Review!!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thunderstruck, I stared at him, unmoving. By the by, both my hands were still clutched tightly around my mouth, so all I could come up with in response to his squinting was a mortified squeak.

Potter ruffled the back of his head – something I'd seen him do whilst flirting with _other_ attractive, popular girls – and grinned at me in what he supposed was a charming smile.

Ugh, now I remembered why I hated the bastard so m-

"_**OW!**_" I yelped, rubbing my stinging bottom softly. Murmuring a counter-spell to temporarily disable the effects of my stupid-arse parchment, I glared at him something fierce.

Clearly the boy was undaunted, still leering at me in that slightly maniacal, loony way of his. And – aha, eureka – the reason for the chump's squinting was now more than obvious.

He wasn't wearing glasses.

Hmm. Well, this could be fun.

"Are you alright?" He asked casually, his forearms now leaning on the armrests of his plush chintz. Oh wow, he sure did know how to woo 'em. After a bloodcurdling scream like that, a _true _hero would've come bounding toward my helpless, vulnerable person.

Okay. So I'm a bit melodramatic. Cut me some slack, it's what a teenager does.

"Yes," I said breezily, "I didn't quite catch your name."

Idiot Boy blinked at me, clearly caught off guard by the fact that I'd had the audacity to not know his name.

"Erm," he goes, suppressing his laughter, "you're an exchange student then? Because there's not a soul at Hogwarts that doesn't know my name."

I walked a couple of steps in his direction, but not close enough to where he'd recognize me.

"No," I said aloofly, "you probably slipped under my notice – I'm a fifth year, by the way."

His vision must be seriously screwed, I was standing less than two metres away from him, and he still couldn't recognize me.

Potter snickered.

Chase was the name of the game, ladies and gents. He knew it, and I certainly knew it, seeing as I'd instigated it.

See, it isn't conceited of Potter to assume that just about everyone but the first years know of him, seeing as his infamous group of friends, the Marauders, were extremely well-known and beyond that, popular.

So, after my admission, he knows that I'm just 'playing-hard-to-get.' However, what I would do beyond that, I had no clue. Therein lay my problem behind my impulsiveness.

"Well," he smarmed, " I'm sure I would've seen a gorgeous bird like you around."

Okay, really? _This _was how he'd managed to attract so many girls to worship him? Apparently, being demeaned, lasciviously gazed at, and pretentiously chatted up by James Potter was something that the vapid, insipid 'admired' girls of our school didn't seem to mind, so long as they held his attention.

And sweet Merlin, how could he even make out anything but my dark burgundy-coloured head of hair, and my figure?

In response to his lame remark, I retorted, "I wasn't always like this, you know."

Furrowing his brows, he looked at me, bewildered.

"Like what? Why don't you come over here, and sit with me?"

He patted the space next to him on the chintz and smiled at me boyishly.

I huffed, crossing my arms. The git was really starting to irritate me. Since when did he lay it on so _thick _and how come I'd never noticed before?

Well, the answer to that should've been quite obvious. For one, Potter had never deemed me worthy to ever get this close to his person, and secondly, in accordance to reason one, I'd never been witness to his pathetic, fumbling attempts at charming the female persuasion.

Boy, he really sucked at it.

My impetuous nature always comes back to bite me in the arse, but of course, that's exactly why I can't help the recklessness – it's ingrained in my personality.

So what did I do then? I flounced right on over to the spacious armchair, and slid in next to him gracefully.

He whistled appreciatively, "Smooth."

"That I am," I nodded, matter-of-fact, inwardly proud of my new-found elegance.

Potter fully turned around to get a look at me, and I can't say I was surprised that he spotted me then.

"_Merlin_, Evans?!"

Hang on. Déjà vu. Hadn't _I_ said that when _I'd_ recognized _him_ ?

_That's _why he'd been so pompous – he'd realized my slip even as I had kept up the charade of not knowing him.

He stared at me, taken aback.

"You're – you – you – " he kept breaking off his sentence, as if he couldn't quite decide on what to say, and his voice had taken on a dazed quality.

"Yes," I nodded humourlessly, " it's me Potter. Fancy that."

He still gawped at me wordlessly, nodding his head vigorously in answer to my last sentence.

Since we had nothing to say to one another, I rose from my seat wearily.

What had I been thinking, sitting with him, so civil, polite?

_Why _had I been sitting with him at all, for that matter…

As I sauntered – with an added swing to my hips, I admit – toward the portrait hole, he began muttering under his breath, and I could practically feel his eyes on me.

Prodding the portrait to swing up, I swear I heard him say, "Fancy? Fancy."

And on that note, I slipped out of the common room, and into the night.

…

…

Wow, that would've been a great ending to my entry.

However, I just felt the need to be a bit mysterious, add a few airs to my newly acquired 'femme fatale' intrigue, y'know?

Pfft.

Anyway, so I was tiptoeing down the staircases, mindful of making any noise that would alert Mrs. Norris to my presence, when I slid my foot directly into the trick-stair that even a second-year would've remembered to skip.

Ah, dammit.

I gripped the banister with both hands before attempting to plunge my foot out, shifting all of my body weight away from the imprisoned appendage. I hopped about on my left foot, trying to jerk it out, no such luck.

I even pleaded with the damned thing to release my now-swollen limb from its dastardly clutches.

Might as well have asked the banister, or the stair below my foot, or above –

My train of scattered thoughts came to a stop as I realized that sitting next to me was a messy-haired, lanky boy I'd come to hate so so _so _much.

Before I could scream, he clapped his hand over my mouth, effectively silencing me.

Looking harried, he said tentatively, "I know you're surprised to see me here Evans, but um – I was walking about when I heard a thud. And when I came to look for where the noise had come from, it was you."

He cleared his throat and removed his hand from me, and chuckled nervously.

"And, erm… here we are."

Then he leapt up and with a yank of my waist, hoisted me up and out of the stair.

Lovely.

Did he expect a 'thank-you' now?

I spared him a withering look, then swiveled on my heel and headed down the staircase.

And shockingly, he didn't say a word. No snotty remark about how I should be grateful and what not.

I'd be lying if I had said that I hadn't been expecting him to say something about me falling to his feet in adoration and thankfulness, but no, Potter had to go and surprise me by doing the exact opposite of what I had pegged him for.

Well, the trip to the kitchens was more than uneventful, I ended up satisfying my cravings and then some.

And on the way back, I was able to maneuver myself around the trick step even with my _enormous_ bowl of ice cream.

Chocolate flavoured with hot fudge and clotted cream.

Yum.

Tonight was all about closure, I reflected back at my dorm, digging into my treat.

Yes, it really had been just what I needed – to get rid of any _inklings _of emotion that had to do with that horrid boy.

....................

I've thrown my words all around  
But I can't, I can't give you a reason  
I feel so broken up (so broken up)  
And I give up (I give up)

-Yellowcard

Relieved,

Lily


	7. Doddridge Davies and a Date

When I woke up the next morning, I realized that my legs were in a need of a good shave, because on that particular day I'd be decked out in school uniform.

Yippee.

Yes, that was my inner muse's cynical, deprecating soliloquy, and I – being the spiffing genius that I am – realized that that sort of attitude needed to be kicked to the curb!

Oh dear. I'm going to need to work on that sarcasm thing.

After being sufficiently plucked, tweezed, waxed, and spritzed, I was bounding out the door... then bounding back, to retrieve a grumpy Kalypso, seeing as our discourteous lesser halves had decided to abandon us in favour of breakfast.

When we approached the Gryffindor table, Grace, whom I could see clearly, began making frantic motions as if to wave us away from where she and Alice sat. Yeah, right. Like she'd be getting rid of us that fast. Just because Alice and Frank were making goo goo eyes at each other, didn't mean we wouldn't be able to stomach it. Besides, as sweet as Grace is, even she wouldn't suffer without us, so what gave?

Why was she so adamant about us scurrying away from where she sat?

The answer came in the form of one group, four heads, and less than two brains to spare between the lot of them. Of course Merlin hated me – why else would my life be one _freaking_ long nightmare?

Much to my surprise, as soon as my bottom hit the bench beside Grace, James Potter decided to grace me with his attention. Well, not so much direct attention as a suspiciously pink tinge to the cheeks, eyes concentrated on his lap, and a hastily muttered, " Hello, Evans."

Kalypso, so focused on glaring at anything and anyone within sight, managed to stop her little hate-fest to gawp at Potter. As did Grace. Frank and Alice? Well, they too were staring at the boys sitting across from us with large, buggy eyes.

My response was awesome, if I do say so myself.

"Lupin, will you pass the butter?" I asked, pouring myself some juice, perfectly content in ignoring the _ex _bane of my existence.

Because really – putting that much effort into acknowledging him would be like I cared.

And now that I'm pretty, confident, and totally over my pathetic d_elusional _crush, why should I care?

Not caring was turning out to be so much fun.

Lupin stared at me open-mouthed for about five seconds before promptly snapping it shut and pushing the butter dish toward me.

Breakfast proved to remain a tense affair, such so that the girls and I were spared the usual sappiness and public displays of affection Alice and Frank so love to bestow upon us, their unwilling audience. However, it wasn't completely uneventful – not at all. Actually, it was kind of humorous with the total rigidness of Grace's back and Kalypso's icy cold demeanor toward the Marauders. I acted totally oblivious to the ugly, stupid imbeciles sitting before us, and began comparing our schedules as soon as they'd been passed out.

Did I catch, out of the very corner of my eye, one James Potter's stare?

Abso-bloody-lutely.

Unfortunately, while this attention some time, oh say, _last year _would have been thrilling, right now I am soo over it, and completely in (some) control of my surprisingly raging hormones.

Twenty minutes later, as I spooned some porridge onto my plate, I felt someone tap on my shoulder.

I turn around to get a glimpse of white shirt stretched over a very male, very taut stomach. Oh, baby. As my eyes trailed up to meet the owner of the fit body, I inwardly gasped, drooled, and fainted.

Doddridge Davies, all six glorious feet of him, was standing before me.

Oh my god, oh my god can I stress this ENOUGH?!

He's like – the Muggle equivalent to a rockstar! Sweet Jesus, I was staring at Hogwarts' own version of a pin-up model.

Picture this: tousled bronze hair, skin girls I know would Avada for, and a steaming hot torso.

And butt.

And very toned, tanned legs.

I would know.

When Ravenclaw had Quidditch practice, I'd sit in the stands not in support, but to watch Doddridge in those impossibly tight shorts that he likes to wear.

See? I'm so, so hormone-driven, it's insane.

Anyway, back to me turning around to see the god standing before me...

"Hello, Doddridge," I said pleasantly, giving him a charming smile.

"Hello Lily. How was your summer?" he grinned back affably, hands settled in pockets.

After a bit of idle chit chat, and a not-so-subtle poke in the ribs from Kalypso, I accepted his offer in taking a quick stroll around the Great Lake before classes started.

Who was I to deny this wonderful specimen of a fellow?

There was a little debate going on within me as to how he even knew of my existence, but I'm very skilled at pushing these little doubts and insecurities to the back of my head when I want. So, with approximately fifty-something minutes before classes commenced, he and I walked – rather close, mind – around the lake, talking as if we'd known one another for ages.

He asked me about previous years here, my family, Grace, Kalypso's famous family, Frank and Alice's relationship, and then...

"Erm Lily?" he came to a halt, shoving his hands deep within his pockets once more, staring at me from beneath his unkempt fringe.

While it looked annoyingly cocky on Potter, Doddridge just made it look plain _sexy._

"Yes?" I asked breathlessly, staring into his beautiful eyes, trying to remember whether or not I had any spinach stuck in my teeth from that omlette I'd had.

"Do you uh – well, I uh – what I mean to say is – "

He gave a frustrated sigh, and then smiled at me sheepishly.

"You know, you sure know how to get a bloke's tongue tied."

I stared at him in astonishment. Me? Average, unpopular, stick-in-the-mud Lily Evans?

With encouragement from my gesture for him to continue, he blew out a puff of air.

"Would you like to go out to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? That is, if you're not already spoken for? I mean, not that I'm saying you _couldn't _be spoken for, you could, becoz you're right fit, and even though we haven't been back here too long, of _course _you'd be – "

I held up my hand, and he stopped rambling.

Merlin, he was so cute! He stared at me helplessly, clearly miserable at his botched-up attempt at asking me out.

But, really.

He'd gotten so nervous around _moi?_

My, my this boy was inflating the ego like none other.

"I'd love to."

And I threw inhibition to the wind and flashed my teeth at him, spinach be damned. I seemed to be in luck, seeing as instead of appearing repulsed, he merely smiled at me gratefully, as if _I _had been the one doing _him _a favour.

.

.

Exuberantly Doddridge's,

Lily

...

...

...

...

...

Can I hear a 'rebound' anyone? Also, I had to factor in the American 'feet' thing while describing Davies' height, seeing as one – it sounds better – and two – I might as well get used to it, seeing as they always use this measurement here in the States. Please, please review!!


	8. Scattered Musings

Not to sound vain or anything, but the way the light's filtering in through the windows really does something for my person. For the record, I'm just _extremely _bored at the moment, and History of Magic just begs for naps. However, instead of napping, I've taken to examining my hair in the sunlight. While normally a boring, deep red colour, my hair has taken on a russet tinge with strands of gold woven in.

Yeah, that sounded pretty snotty.

I stifle a yawn and glance around the crowded class. Kalypso is slumped in the seat next to me, doodling crude pictures. Alice is at the table in front of us with her beau Frank, their chairs scraped super close together. Grace is sitting across the room with Preethi Patil – whose twin brother, Arjun, is a total _dish._

Twisting around in my chair, I try to work out the kinks in my back. I stretch out my arms and glance behind me, and lock eyes with...wait for it... Potter. Ugh. Forgot the prick was sitting behind me.

Toerag gives me a small smile, and if I didn't know it any better, I'd peg it as a shy smile, but since I _do _know better, I know it's a cocky, smirk-y, prickish Potter smile. And that last sentence has to be the most times I've ever used the word "smile" in a sentence. How annoying.

But what's more annoying is the prat Potter! So I just narrow my eyes at him, sniff, and turn around in my chair.

Only six-thousand nine-hundred sixty seconds to go. Whoopie.

...

...

So Doddridge and I had lunch by the Great Lake today. It was sooo romantic! He fed me bits of my salad – though it sort of annoyed me at first, I mean, I c_an _feed myself, but I'd warmed up to the idea as the lunch date gradually went on. Gorgeous is a word that doesn't do the boy justice. He is soooo fantastic and cute and smart and lovely and considerate.

After we'd finished eating, we walked around the lake, and held hands. He has really large hands, come to think of it. This isn't a stretch, considering I'm smaller than most people, including girls.

Clearly, one can tell I'm not in the right state of mind – I can't seem to focus on one topic or train of thought for too long.

Seeing as I've run out of things to say, I shall put quill to parchment tomorrow.

..

..

Adieu,

Lily

.........................

.........................

So sorry for the long wait! As you can see, this was a filler chapter, and I'm running out of things for this story! Someone, anyone, please help!! Send me an email if you can at .


End file.
